Friends and Enemies
by NerdBurga
Summary: With Tony in trouble of course his team comes to the rescue, but what if he has trouble distinguishing between friends and enemies? How will he survive when he doesn't let his own family help him? Whumped!Tony galore in here with some vulnerability for good measure. But don't worry, Gibbs has his six. Rating may change. On hiatus for now, really sorry.
1. Chapter 1

__**I've had this plotbunny for a while and kept meaning to act on it, but because of all the other stories I'm writing right now I was putting it off. But today my friend, let's call her Pooh Bear (she doesn't have an account) asked me to start a story with "It was a dark and stormy night." **

**Naturally, my response was "Challenge Accepted!" So here we are. Pooh Bear doesn't actually watch NCIS, but I don't think the details bothered her too much. So this story's to you Pooh Bear. Don't ever say I don't love you.**

**P.S I always feel the need these days to warn I often leave chapters on cliffhangers and my updating is very erratic. Just know what you're getting into by reading this. Enjoy!**

_It was a dark and stormy night._

Of all the thoughts that could run through his head while hanging by his restrained wrists, NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo continued to play that one over and over again. Why, of all the weather that could have settled over Washington two nights ago - or was it three now? - _why_ did it have to be dark and stormy when he was kidnapped? It was such a cliché. He would never live it down.

For the first twenty four hours Tony had been focused on much more important matters; escaping this dark little slice of damp hell for one. But with his toes barely touching the ground, his wrists held in the kind of knot that would make a marine scratch his head and the only source of light being a simple wax candle that had died shortly after he'd woken up there, not much hope had been held from the start. Tony had comforted himself in the fact that his team would be looking for him; they would find him in no time.

He guessed he was into the next lot of 24 hours by the time he realised no one would even notice he was gone. Tony wasn't supposed to show up back at the DC office for another week. The OSP team in Los Angeles had asked for his help in taking down an escaped hitman, someone NCIS had investigated and arrested while Agent DiNozzo was running things and Gibbs was building boats on a beach in Mexico.

Tony was really glad he wasn't the one to tell Gibbs he'd be losing his SFA for a week. The bossman hadn't taken the news too happily.

But surely once he didn't meet Special Agent Blye at the airport they'd go looking for him. His team would realise something was wrong soon enough. Not to mention Gibbs' gut had to be churning.

That was what had kept Tony going through the next 24 hours.

He figured he must have slept at some point, though it hadn't felt like it, which was one of the reasons he was beginning to lose track of the time passing around him. In this dark, damp room, isolation was all Tony knew; not even time seemed to touch the place.

Once or twice when Tony had been drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness he thought he felt himself be moved, a sensation his body was quickly losing touch with, and could have sworn he'd ended up laying on the ground. It would explain why his straining muscles, aching as they were, hadn't given out on him completely yet.

But if that were true, someone must have been there to move him and lay him down, then later move him back. And why would anyone do that?

By now exhaustion mixed with lack of food had begun to mess with Tony's head, slowing him down and hindering his usually fast and quick-witted mind. Letting out a raspy groan Tony collected the little strength he had left to lift his head and lean it back, opening his mouth. Drops of water fell steadily onto his dry tongue, coming from what he guessed had been a strategically placed leaky pipe - that or he was incredibly lucky.

A tired snort escaped Tony._ Lucky. Ha._

Unable to hold his head up any longer the strength flew abruptly out of him and his chin went back to resting on his chest. Fighting off the urge to let his mind shut down, Tony slowly drifted back to his original train of thought.

_It was a dark and stormy night._

**The chapters will be longer after this, I just wanted to make this like a prologue. See you all again soon! (I hope)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Today is the first day I've actually had the chance to do any writing since I first started this story, so I was very excited to finally be able to work on it again. I have like five ongoing fics at the moment, so I hate not writing for even a day. Thanks for all of the support I've received so far, it makes writing these stories even more fun.**

Gibbs sipped his coffee looking irritable - more so than usual. The sun was shining through every window, soaking up the rain that had stopped falling just that morning, but the only reaction it gained from the ex-marine was a quiet growl. He glanced at Agent DiNozzo's desk where a small pile of papers lay neatly on top, awaiting the agent's return. Ziva was talking Hebrew on the phone in hushed tones at her desk, and McGee furiously clicking the computer mouse at his; Gibbs was fairly certain he was playing that computer game he'd gotten from Tony. Overall it was quiet, but while the break was nice, he knew it wouldn't last, and knew that when his phone rang and they were called onto a case he would want his senior field agent backing him up.

But somehow the Director had seen fit to send Agent DiNozzo to Los Angeles for a week, to help bring in a criminal he had already put away once before. Gibbs grunted. Maybe if Los Angeles law enforcement knew how to do their job they wouldn't need to bring the guy back in in the first place.

McGee and Ziva could sense Gibbs was pissed. Hell, it wasn't all that hard to figure out, let alone for two highly trained agents who had been working under him for years. And they could understand the resentment. Tony being pulled out of normal duties to help with some other op - it was too familiar, and never ended well.

Failing at beating Tony's high score once again, Tim sighed and leaned back on his chair, trying not to glance at Tony's corner of the bullpen. He hated it when Tony was put on other assignments, and wondered if anyone else was getting flashbacks to a blown up car and an unidentifiable charred mess in the front seat.

Little did Tim know, he was right - he wasn't the only one remembering past missions.

"I need coffee," muttered Gibbs, abruptly standing. His gut had been churning since yesterday and he needed something to settle it.

Naturally, that's when the phone rang.

"Gibbs," he answered curtly. Ziva and McGee both looked up, Ziva already reaching for her gun to gear up.

"I thought we were done trying to screw each other over Gibbs."

Gibbs' eyebrows creased in surprise. "G?"

"Look, I get your agent's valuable and all, but haven't you ever heard of inter-agency co-operation?" Callen talked casually on the other end, not picking up on Gibbs' confusion.

"The hell are you talking about G?"

"Agent DiNozzo!" Callen explained, and Gibbs froze."He was supposed to meet Kensi at the airport four hours ago and the guy was a no show."

Gibbs' voice went quiet and dangerous. "He what?" The other agents eyed him curiously. He had known something was off, his gut had known it. And he hadn't done a damn thing about it.

"Yeah, Hetty's calling up Director Vance right now. She's kinda pissed."

"Did he contact you at all?" asked Gibbs urgently, stalking back to his desk and holstering his gun.

"No, we figured you were making him stay in Washington." Callen's voice turned serious. "He was supposed to be on that plane wasn't he?"

"Yeah," answered Gibbs, hanging up as he did so. Turning to his other agents, who were now looking almost as worried as he felt, he began to bark out orders. "McGee, trace DiNozzo's phone, find out where he is, _now_. Ziva, with me."

"Boss -" tried McGee, "Tony's in trouble isn't he?"

Gibbs didn't even stop, heading towards the elevator with Ziva right on his heels. "Find out McGee!" he yelled over his shoulder. McGee nodded and began typing furiously, a determined expression lacing his face.

The elevator dinged, signalling Gibbs and Ziva's departure, when Tim heard a voice from above.

"McGee!"

Said agent turned and looked up to see Director Vance leaning on the railing, looking stormy. "Where the hell is Gibbs?"

"He went looking for Tony," answered McGee, turning immediately back to his computer without an explanation. Finding the signal for Tony's phone he dialled Gibbs' number, barely noticing when the NCIS Director was suddenly standing over him and fuming.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Um - sorry Director, one moment," replied McGee as Gibbs picked up.

"Where is he McGee?"

"His phone says he's at home Boss," said Tim hurriedly. Gibbs hung up and McGee finally looked up to Vance and gave him his full attention. "Sorry Sir," he managed earnestly. "You were saying?"

Director Vance looked furious.

* * *

Gibbs slipped his phone back in his pocket as he and Ziva reached the door to Tony's apartment. Gibbs desperately hoped his agent was at home.

So he could kick his ass for scaring the hell out of all of them.

Ziva had already tried to ring Tony, constantly on the way over. But there was no answer.

As the agents sidled up to the door, they saw the splintered edge and the way it had been placed to look as if it _wasn't_ only hanging off one of the hinges.

Resisting a few choice curse words Gibbs drew his gun in sync with Ziva, and they stood on either side. Making eye contact, Ziva took a deep breath, hoping she was prepared to see whatever was on the other side. Gibbs nodded, and they slammed through with ease. Gibbs kicked what was left of the door away with Ziva right behind him, both of their guns held ready.

But only silence greeted their entry. The agents split up, attempting to ignore the way everything was trashed and smashed, to clear the premises. Gibbs checked the small kitchen adjoining onto Tony's living room and Ziva walked stealthily down the hallway, checking the bathroom and bedroom. Each room she entered with her gun held in front, and each room she cleared quickly. The fear bubbling under the surface grew with every step she took. No sign of a threat.

No sign of Tony.

They met back in the living room, what was probably the biggest room of the house. A dark fabric couch sat in the middle, its cushions ripped to pieces and thrown all over the place. Tony's 60 inch plasma was on the ground in pieces, the cabinet it had obviously been standing on searched and turned. Not one object in Tony's apartment had been left undisturbed.

"He wasn't taken here," said Gibbs, re-holstering his gun with a dark look on his face.

Ziva nodded. "The mess is too methodical, and there is no… blood," Ziva winced at her own words.

Neither agent bothered entertaining the possibility that something else had happened to Tony. He was gone, plain and simple. And whoever was behind the disappearance… They were going to pay.

"Call McGee, get him over here," Gibbs muttered, heading to the doorway. "I'm checking his car."

"Gibbs," Ziva called after her boss uncertainly.

Gibbs turned and looked her right in the eyes, his face serious and his tone determined, "We'll get him back, Ziva."

Ziva nodded, her eyes scanning her partner's raided apartment.

"We had better."

**Hopefully you're all enjoying it? Okay, which story to update next...**


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